Professor McGonagall
by Rita Screecher
Summary: A planned 5-part fic about the Triwizard Tournament, from McGonagall's point of view. *1/17 UPDATE: Part III, The Second Task posted*
1. Part I: The Goblet Of Fire

Title: Professor McGonagall - Part I: The Goblet of Fire  
Author: Rita Screecher  
Author email: ritascreecher@excite.com  
Category: Humor/Romance  
Keywords: Fourth year, Professor McGonagall  
Spoilers: All four books, especially the fourth book (obviously)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: A retelling of Harry Potter and Co's fourth year, from Professor McGonagall's point of view. Of course, I took a few "creative liberties"...:)  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
A/N: Um...yeah. Would you like a brownie? *offers*  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
This is the first part of a planned five part series, detailing the events of the Triwizard Tournament during Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts, from Professor McGonagall's point of view.  
  
Part I: The Goblet of Fire  
  
It was Friday. Professor McGonagall, though eager with the anticipation of the Welcoming Feast that night, still expected lessons to go on as usual. Her afternoon Transfiguration class, however, thought the opposite. Charmed parchment airplanes whizzed through the air, trying to strike victims as they stood in their seats, blocking them with even more charms. No one was paying attention to McGonagall.  
  
"And so, according to the findings of Defonity the Mad," she said loudly, trying in vain to make her class listen, "the reason younger wizards usually have trouble Transfiguring anything inanimate into something animate is because they have yet to develop the maturity and intelligence to grasp the magic behind it - can anyone tell me what I just said?" she called over the din. No one seemed to hear her. McGonagall tried to calm herself down. Giving everyone detentions for the next week won't help, she told herself.  
  
"Professor?" a voice called out. McGonagall whirled around, a smile returning to her face.  
  
"Yes, Catherine? Do you have a question on the lesson?" See, just stick to it, and the students will listen to you -  
  
"No, Professor, I wanted to ask if we could be let out now."  
  
Professor McGonagall stared, speechless at the boldness of her student. Her favorite sixth-year student, in fact, but still! "Are you mad?" McGonagall finally managed to say. "There's a whole hour left in the lesson!"  
  
"Half an hour, actually," Catherine corrected her. "With the Welcoming Feast and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming and all." She smiled sweetly. "Well? Could we? We have to get ready, you know, to make ourselves presentable for the other schools. You don't want them to think we're scruffy and half-rate, do you? We want to put our best foot forward, right?" She looked around at the rest of the class for agreement, and the sixth-years collectively nodded energetically.  
  
McGonagall sighed. It was only one day...and Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were coming...and it was no use trying to teach, after all, if they refused to listen. She looked around. For the first time during the entire lesson, the class was silent and all looking at her expectantly. The parchment airplanes were suspended in mid-air, also unmoving. McGonagall opened her mouth, hesitated, and -  
  
"No," she said, surprising everyone, but at the same time, surprising no one at all. The airplanes fell straight down to the floor along with the expressions on everyone's faces. "Sit down. This lesson will go on as planned. Dumbledore has already been generous enough to allow a half-hour more to get ready." She eyed the class beadily. "Sit down, I said."  
  
The class obediently sat.  
  
"Take out your textbooks."  
  
The class obediently took out their textbooks.  
  
"Turn to page 465."  
  
The ruffling of the pages signaled their compliance.  
  
"Take out your wands."  
  
The class produced their wands.  
  
"Now, repeat after me: We will leave class quietly and not cause any commotions in the hallway, to avoid getting both you and me in trouble."  
  
The class obediently repeated the sentence. Grins spread throughout the room.  
  
"And if I do find that any of you have caused any sort of disturbance, I will personally make sure that Professor Moody turns you into a ferret. I'm sure that you've all heard about Draco Malfoy's unfortunate incident by now."  
  
The class was quietly gone in a second.  
  
I'm getting too soft, Professor McGonagall sighed. But it is the Triwizard Tournament, after all...  
  
She gathered up her books and headed to her office.  
  
***  
  
"In line, Gryffindors, in line..."  
  
Professor McGonagall walked up and down the entrance hall, trying to get everyone in order.  
  
"Weasley, straighten your hat," she snapped at Ron Weasley, who was standing next to Hermione Granger and Harry Potter as usual. He guiltily tried to get it in order, but succeeded only in making it look even worse. McGonagall gave up and turned to Parvati Patil, who had fastened an enormous butterfly to her head.  
  
"Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair," she fussed. While Parvati scowled and struggled to remove it, McGonagall looked up and down the line.  
  
"Good as it gets," she muttered to herself. Raising her voice, she said, "Follow me, please. First years in front...no pushing...we'll all get there in time."  
  
McGonagall led the Gryffindors out the door and down the steps, behind the Ravenclaws. They all lined up in front of the school and stood there to wait, some shivering from the cold. McGonagall repeatedly alternated between checking her watch and peering up at the sky.  
  
"They said they'd be here at six," she said to Dumbledore, who was standing next to her.  
  
"Patience, Minerva," Dumbledore murmured, who was also watching the sky. He smiled suddenly.  
  
"Aha!" he called out, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him. "Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"  
  
Everyone began looking in different directions. "Where?"  
  
"There!" Someone in the crowd pointed over the Forbidden Forest, and everyone turned to look.  
  
"It's a dragon!"  
  
"Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!"  
  
The students and teachers fell silent as a powder blue carriage the size of a large house soared towards them. Twelve winged horses the size of elephants pulled the carriage through the air effortlessly. The front three rows of students nervously took a few steps back as the carriage landed with an almighty crash.  
  
The Beauxbatons delegation had arrived.  
  
***  
  
Having greeted Madame Maxine and her students, the school turned back to wait for Durmstrang to arrive. It was getting darker and colder by the minute, and the students from Beauxbatons were obviously ill dressed in their thin silk robes. McGonagall stamped her feet to get warm. Everyone was getting impatient, when suddenly -  
  
"The lake! Look at the lake!"  
  
The crowd, as one, turned and peered down at the lake, which was no longer smooth and still. It suddenly formed a whirlpool in the middle, as though it were a bathtub and the plug had been pulled. A ship slowly rose out of the heart of it, and finally, it had emerged entirely, bobbing on the surface. It glided to the bank, and from their position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, they could hear an anchor being thrown into the water and a plank being lowered. They watched as people began to disembark and walk up towards the castle.  
  
"Dumbledore!" a tall, thin man at the front of the small parade called out. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"  
  
"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. McGonagall looked at Karkaroff with distaste. She had never liked this man much, and had her reasons, not that she would ever tell her students about it.  
  
"Dear old Hogwarts," Karkaroff said, smiling up at the castle. McGonagall shuddered slightly at his cold expression. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."  
  
The school began to murmur excitedly as one of the students stepped forward. Without looking, McGonagall knew that it was Viktor Krum. Always liked to show off, Karkaroff did, she thought. Not that he usually had much to show off.  
  
"After you," Dumbledore said, smiling, and the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students filed back up the steps and into the castle, with the Hogwarts students bringing up the rear.  
  
***  
  
Dumbledore stood and the Great Hall fell silent, expectant, waiting.  
  
"The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first," Dumbledore said, "let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Lugo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."  
  
Professor McGonagall applauded politely along with the cheering crowd. Bagman waved, beaming. Crouch did not wave nor smile.  
  
"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament," Dumbledore continued, "and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxine on the panel that will judge to champions' efforts. The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."  
  
Argus Filch placed a wooden, jewel-encrusted chest on the table before Dumbledore. The students began murmuring and craning their necks to get a good view of the chest. McGonagall smiled at the sight of little Dennis Creevey standing on his chair to try and see it properly. If only he could properly Transfigure that needle, she thought.  
  
"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman, and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways...their magical prowess...their daring...their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger.  
  
"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."  
  
Dumbledore took out his wand and tapped the top of the chest three times. The lid slowly opened. Reaching inside, Dumbledore pulled out a large, rough wooden cup, full with dancing blue-white flames. Then he closed the lid and placed the goblet on top, where it was clearly visible.  
  
"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champions must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.  
  
"To insure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.  
  
"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."  
  
The students got up from their respective tables and began to slowly file out the door, chattering excitedly. McGonagall caught snatches of conversation about the Age Line and Aging Potions. She chuckled to herself. Did they really think the professors of the school were that dim?  
  
The Hall was finally empty, and only the teachers lingered, talking to one another.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore," she called out to the Headmaster, who was chatting amiably with Professor Snape, who looked quite moody for some reason. McGonagall wished she could turn his frown upside down. Dumbledore turned.  
  
"Yes, Minerva?" he replied.  
  
"You don't think that anyone underage will try to ask someone else to submit their name, will you?"  
  
"I don't believe so. Even if they do, there's a slim chance that the Goblet of Fire will choose them as a champion," Dumbledore said. "I have already gotten a good idea about who the three champions will be this year, and I assure you, not one is underage. Everyone younger than seventeen is simply not well-equipped for such a challenge."  
  
"But I'm just saying..."  
  
"My dear, if it really concerns you that much, I'll have one of the professors be watching the Goblet of Fire to make sure that no one does. Ah! Professor Moody! He won't take any fuss and nonsense from anyone." Dumbledore smiled. "Well, off to bed now, after a quick mug of butterbeer. Good night, Minerva."  
  
"Good night, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
***  
  
The next day, Professor McGonagall spent her evening before the Halloween feast helping out with decorating the Great Hall with jack-o-lanterns and candles. It had taken her a while to fit one of Hagrid's enormous pumpkins through the double doors of the Hall, but she finally gave up, Transfigured it into a tiny gourd, and Transfigured it back after she had gotten it where she wanted. Then it had taken her another hour carving a perfect likeness of Professor Snape on it. When asked about it by one of the students, she blushed and said, "He's...always wanted a portrait of himself...done on a...pumpkin." The student stared at her for a while, then, comprehending, hurried off to snicker with his friends.  
  
After the golden plates had finally cleared, Dumbledore stood. Everyone looked at him, suddenly silent. Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxine looked as tense as the students did. Mr. Crouch looked bored. Ludo Bagman was grinning and winking at random people. McGonagall was nastily reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart.  
  
"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," Dumbledore began. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" - here Dumbledore indicated the door behind the staff table - "where they will be receiving their first instructions."  
  
He waved his wand, and at once, all the candles except those that glimmered inside the jack-o-lanterns were snuffed out. The Goblet of Fire was now shining more brightly than anything else in the entire Hall (With the exception of Professor Snape's beautiful eyes...McGonagall thought dreamily).  
  
A little thrill ran through the Hall. McGonagall, feeling it, tore her gaze from Snape and turned to look at the Goblet. The flames had turned red, and sparks were flying from it. Suddenly, a slightly charred piece of parchment, propelled by the flames, fluttered out of it. The crowd collectively gasped.  
  
"The champion for Durmstrang," Dumbledore proclaimed, "will be Viktor Krum."  
  
The room burst into applause and cheers. Viktor rose from his position at the Slytherin table and all heads followed him as he made his way along the staff table to disappear into the next chamber.  
  
"Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!" Karkaroff boomed from his position next to Dumbledore. McGonagall glared at him from the safety of the darkened room.  
  
Another piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. Dumbledore grasped it and read, "The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"  
  
If some heads had not turned for Viktor, they certainly turned for this girl. McGonagall watched her as well, noting her strong resemblance to a veela. (Perhaps she has some relatives that are, McGonagall mused. I'm sure the boys will be happy that she's one of the three champions. I wonder if Snape will be...)  
  
The Hall fell silent once more. The Goblet of Fire turned red once more, and from the tip of the tongue of the flames, Dumbledore plucked the third piece of parchment.  
  
"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!"  
  
The Hufflepuff table was in ecstasies. Every single one had jumped to his or her feet, and they screamed and stamped their feet as Cedric made his way down the Hall and into the chamber. At last, the applause died down.  
  
"Excellent!" Dumbledore said. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"  
  
Dumbledore stopped. He was staring at the Goblet, which had suddenly turned red again. A long flame shot into the air, and Dumbledore automatically reached out and grasped the fourth piece of parchment. He stared at it. There was a long pause. Clearing his throat, he read:  
  
"Harry Potter."  
  
Every head in the Great Hall turned to stare at the Boy Who Lived, who was sitting in his seat at the Gryffindor table, apparently as stunned as everyone else. There was no applause, only angry murmurs. McGonagall's head whirled. She had to do something.  
  
She stood and swept past Ludo Bagman and Karkaroff, and bent down next to Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore. I know what you are thinking. We cannot put Harry's life in danger, but at the same time, we cannot refuse to allow Harry to participate, for the magical contract is binding. You of all people should understand this."  
  
Dumbledore nodded and stood up. McGonagall quietly returned to her seat.  
  
"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"  
  
Harry got to his feet and walked up to the staff table. Every single eye was upon him, and McGonagall wished she could do something to lessen the tension.  
  
"Well...through the door, Harry," Dumbledore said. Harry Potter disappeared into the chamber. The Hall immediately erupted into furious chatter. Ludo Bagman stood and hurried into the chamber after Harry. A few minutes later, after a short regrouping, Dumbledore, Mr. Crouch, Karkaroff, Madame Maxine, Snape, and McGonagall herself followed. McGonagall closed the door behind them.  
  
"Madame Maxine!" the Beauxbatons champion said, striding over. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"  
  
"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" Madame Maxine said angrily.  
  
"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore. Two Hogwarts champions?" Professor Karkaroff's voice was like ice. "I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"  
  
"C'est impossible," Madame Maxine blustered. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."  
  
"We were under the impression," Karkaroff continued, "that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore. Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."  
  
"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," Snape spoke up. McGonagall's heart sank a bit. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here -"  
  
"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore cut him off, and Snape fell silent. Dumbledore now directed his gaze to Harry Potter.  
  
"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?"  
  
"No," Harry replied.  
  
"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ah, but of course 'e is lying!" Madame Maxine cried. McGonagall could no longer contain herself.  
  
"He could not have crossed the Age Line," McGonagall burst out. "I am sure we are all agreed on that -"  
  
"Dumbly-dorr must 'ave made a mistake wiz ze line."  
  
"It is possible, of course," Dumbledore said mildly. McGonagall made a noise of disbelief.  
  
"Dumbledore, you know perfectly well that you did not make a mistake!" she said angrily. "Really, what nonsense! Harry could not have crossed the line himself, and as Professor Dumbledore believes that he did not persuade an older student to do it for him, I'm sure that should be good for everybody else!" She glared at Snape. Just because she liked him didn't mean that she was going to start changing her opinions on everything. If he didn't like Harry Potter, by God was she going to try and change that.  
  
"Mr. Crouch...Mr. Bagman...you are our - er - objective judges," Karkaroff started. "Surely you will agree that this is most irregular?"  
  
Mr. Crouch replied, "We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of fire are bound to compete in the tournament."  
  
"Well," Bagman beamed, "Barty knows the rule book back to front."  
  
"I insist upon resubmitting the names of the rest of my students," said Karkaroff heatedly. "You will set up the Goblet of Fire once more, and we will continue adding names until each school has two champions. It's only fair, Dumbledore."  
  
"But Karkaroff," Bagman said, "it doesn't work like that. The Goblet of Fire's just gone out - it won't reignite until the start of the next tournament -"  
  
" -in which Durmstrang will most certainly not be competing!" Karkaroff exploded. "After all our meetings and negotiations and compromises, I little expected something of this nature to occur! I have half a mind to leave now!"  
  
"Empty threat, Karkaroff." Everyone's head turned, and there stood Moody, who had just entered the room. "You can't leave your champion now. He's got to compete. They've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"  
  
"Convenient?" Karkaroff said. "I'm afraid I don't understand you, Moody."  
  
"Don't you? It's very simple, Karkaroff. Someone put Potter's name in that goblet knowing he'd have to compete if he came out."  
  
"Evidently," Madame Maxine blurted out, "someone 'oo wished to give 'Ogwarts two bites at ze apple!"  
  
"I quite agree, Madame Maxine," said Karkaroff. "I shall be lodging complaints with the Ministry of Magic and the International Confederation of Wizards -"  
  
"If anyone's got reason to complain," growled Moody, "it's Potter, but...funny thing...I don't her him saying a word..."  
  
"Why should 'e complain?" Fleur Delacour stamped her tiny foot. "'E 'as ze chance to compete, 'asn't 'e? We 'ave all been 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honor for our schools! A thousand Galleons in prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"  
  
"Maybe someone's hoping Potter is going to die for it," said Moody.  
  
An extremely tense silence followed. Ludo Bagman, in an attempt to clear the air, said nervously with a little chuckle, "Moody, old man...what a thing to say!"  
  
"We all know Professor Moody considers the morning wasted if he hasn't discovered six plots to murder him before lunchtime," said Karkaroff nastily. "Apparently he is now teaching his students to fear assassination too. An odd quality in a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Dumbledore, but no doubt you had your reasons."  
  
"Imagining things, am I? Seeing things, eh? It was a skilled witch or wizard who put the boy's name in that goblet..."  
  
"Ah, what evidence is zere of zat?" Madame Maxine threw up her hands and very nearly took off Snape's nose.  
  
"Because they hoodwinked a very powerful magical object! It would have needed an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament...I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category..."  
  
"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody, and a very ingenious theory it is," Karkaroff said coldly, "though of course, I heard you recently got it into your head that one of your birthday presents contained a cunningly disguised basilisk egg, and smashed it to pieces before realizing it was a carriage clock. So you'll understand if we don't take you entirely seriously..."  
  
"There are those who'll turn innocent occasions to their advantage," retorted Moody. "It's my job to think the way Dark wizards do, Karkaroff - as you ought to remember..."  
  
"Alastor!" Dumbledore said in a warning tone. Moody shut up, but watched Karkaroff squirm, satisfied.  
  
"How this situation arose, we do not know," said Dumbledore, addressing everyone in the room. "It seems to me, however, that we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry have been chosen to compete in the Tournament. This, therefore, they will do..."  
  
"Ah, but Dumbly-dorr -"  
  
"My dear Madame Maxine, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."  
  
Madame Maxine did not reply, only glared. Looking around the room, McGonagall found that she was not the only one unhappy with the results; Snape looked furious, and Karkaroff looked as though he was about to explode. Bagman, on the other hand, looked excited.  
  
"Well, shall we crack on, then?" he said cheerily. "Got to give our champions their instructions, haven't we? Barty, want to do the honors?"  
  
"Yes," Mr. Crouch said, "instructions. Yes...the first task...the first task is designed to test your daring, so we are not going to be telling you what it is. Courage in the face of the unknown is an important quality in a wizard...very important...  
  
"The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges.  
  
"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wnads. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests.  
  
"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"  
  
"I think so," said Dumbledore. He was looking at Mr. Crouch, concerned. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"  
  
"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry. It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."  
  
"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?"  
  
"Come on, Barty, I'm staying!" Bagman said cheerily. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"  
  
"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch.  
  
"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxine - a nightcap?" Dumbledore offered. But Madame Maxine had already taken Fleur and was leading her out of the chamber, talking to her rapidly in French. Karkaroff and Krum exited as well.  
  
McGonagall suddenly felt very tired.  
  
"You'll excuse me, won't you, Dumbledore," she murmured to him.  
  
"Of course," he replied. "See you in the morning." He touched a hand to his hat and smiled. McGonagall managed a smile in return and hurried out the door, her head spinning. She was walking down the steps, trying to steady herself on the banister, when she suddenly tripped. She gave a little squeak and toppled down the remaining few steps, where she lay there on the ground, laughing at herself.  
  
"Are you all right?" a voice appeared from above. She looked up, and to her dismay, realized that it was Snape. He quickly strode down the steps, his robes billowing out around him, and knelt beside her.  
  
"I'm fine," she said, and struggled to push herself up from the stone floor. He offered her a hand, and she took it gratefully. She looked up at Snape.  
  
"Don't be so hard on Harry Potter," she murmured. Snape's face changed. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but McGonagall had already begun to stride away. She felt his gaze on her retreating back.  
  
"I liked your pumpkin," she heard him say faintly, and she smiled and turned the corner. 


	2. Part II: The First Task

Title: Professor McGonagall - Part II: The First Task  
Author: Rita Screecher  
Author email: ritascreecher@excite.com  
Category: Humor/Romance  
Keywords: Fourth year, Professor McGonagall  
Spoilers: All four books, especially the fourth book (obviously)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: A retelling of Harry Potter and Co's fourth year, from Professor McGonagall's point of view. Of course, I took a few "creative liberties"...:)  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
A/N: Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-choo-choo!  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
This is the second part of a planned five part series, detailing the events of the Triwizard Tournament during Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts, from Professor McGonagall's point of view.  
  
Part II: The First Task  
  
"Dragons?"  
  
"My dear professor, calm down. We have professional wizards standing by to make sure they don't hurt anyone."  
  
"But dragons? I know these are to be difficult tasks, but I thought we agreed we were taking extra precautions this tournament, and especially since we have an underage wizard competing. Couldn't we come up with a different task?"  
  
"Professor McGonagall, really, where were you when we were all discussing what the tasks were going to be?"  
  
"I missed that particular meeting," she faltered, "because...my mother died."  
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Didn't she die ten years ago?"  
  
"...my step-mother."  
  
"Didn't she die two years ago?"  
  
"...my second step-mother."  
  
"Didn't your father die shortly after your step-mother died? How could he have remarried?"  
  
"...my godmother."  
  
"Minerva..."  
  
McGonagall fell silent; her face flushed a heavy red. "All right, I overslept that day."  
  
"So I presumed."  
  
A pause. Then:  
  
"So you're going to change the task."  
  
"No."  
  
"...No?"  
  
"We cannot baby Harry Potter, or, for that matter, any of the champions. These are supposed to be challenging tasks, for the best students from each school. I believe that all of the champions, including Harry, will survive and complete the task with flying colors."  
  
"You put too much faith in these children, Albus."  
  
"I have to, Minerva."  
  
Another silence.  
  
"Good night, Albus."  
  
"And the same to you, Professor."  
  
***  
  
Tuesday arrived with excited buzzing about the first task. There was much speculation, and during breakfast, rumors flew around about what the champions would have to do.  
  
"Perhaps they'll sic Hagrid's Skrewts on them! Whoever gets out alive wins!"  
  
"Or maybe they have to fly around the Quidditch field without broomsticks!"  
  
"Or maybe they'll have a three-legged race! They have to Transfigure an extra leg onto their body and run around the castle ten times!"  
  
Lessons were to end at midday to give all the students time to hurry down to the dragons' enclosure (Though none will have the faintest idea that there are dragons there, McGonagall thought icily. Dumbledore should have at least told the champions about the task yesterday...it's as though he wants someone to die).  
  
Lunch came quickly. While the rest of the school ate, the judges and the professors headed down to the dragon enclosure, as well as all but one of the champions. McGonagall stuck her head into the tent Ludo Bagman and the champions were gathering in before the task, glanced around, and discovered that it was Harry who was missing. She dashed off to the Great Hall.  
  
"Potter," she said urgently, tapping him on the shoulder, "the champions have to come down onto the grounds now...You have to get ready for your first task."  
  
Harry looked rather green as he stood up and followed McGonagall out of the castle. McGonagall felt rather nervous, too, so in an attempt to calm both Harry and herself, she put her hand on his shoulder and said, "Now, don't panic, just keep a cool head...We've got wizards standing by to control the situation if it gets out of hand...The main thing is just to do your best, and nobody will think any the worse of you...Are you all right?"  
  
Harry croaked, "Yes. Yes, I'm fine."  
  
The tent came into view and McGonagall turned to him quickly, saying, "You're to go in there with the other champions and wait for your turn, Potter. Mr. Bagman is in there...he'll be telling you the - the procedure...Good luck."  
  
"Thanks," Harry replied, and McGonagall nodded once and left him standing in front of the tent. She turned around and watched his slim form duck into the flimsy structure. Then she headed off to herd the rest of the students out into the stands.  
  
***  
  
Cedric Diggory was the first to emerge from the tent. The crowd clapped and roared as he stepped into the enclosure. He had gotten the Swedish Short-Snout.  
  
"Isn' this exciting?" Hagrid shouted over the din.  
  
"Indeed!" McGonagall yelled back.  
  
"Whom are you rooting for?" Moody shouted.  
  
"We're supposed to be objective!" McGonagall exclaimed.  
  
"Harry!" Hagrid said at the same time. All three professors grinned and turned their attention back to Diggory, who had finally acted and was Transfiguring a rock on the ground into...  
  
"A dog!" Ludo Bagman bellowed, acting as commentary.  
  
The dragon let out a scream and started going after the dog, while Cedric ducked underneath its enormous wing in pursuit of the golden egg. "Ooh, narrow miss there, very narrow -" Bagman shouted as the dragon swung around, still chasing the dog, and its tail nearly lopped off Cedric's head - "He's taking risks, this one!"  
  
Cedric did a funny little twist of his body ("Is he doing the limbo?" Moody shouted, laughing) and suddenly, he was underneath the enormous spiked tail and on the other side of the dragon. However, it seemed as though the dragon had changed its mind, and it turned, ignoring the Labrador and going after Cedric instead. It opened its mouth and let loose a stream of fire. The crowd gasped. Diggory ducked, and the brunt of the fire passed by, but a bit manage to lick at his face. The crowd was now on its feet, and McGonagall could hardly bear to watch.  
  
"He's - he's ducking down - clever move, pity it didn't work - wait, no - he's got it!"  
  
The crowd was beside itself. The cheers were deafening. McGonagall herself nearly shouted herself hoarse.  
  
"One down, three to go!" Bagman yelled, and the whistle blew again. "Miss Delacour, if you please!"  
  
Fleur materialized, visibly trembling from head to foot. Her wand was clutched tightly in her small hand, and as she entered the enclosure to face the Welsh Green, a crowd of boys in the stands shouted, "We loff you, Fleur!" She seemed to be invigorated by her personal group of cheerleaders, and stood a bit straighter.  
  
"Here she goes!" Ludo shouted. Fleur raised her wand and said something that was drowned out by the crowd, and a beam of light hit the dragon straight in the chest. The dragon bellowed and tried to get at Fleur, but something seemed to be taking it over - she had put some sort of sleep-spell on it.  
  
"Oh I'm not sure that was wise", and McGonagall had to agree with Bagman - the dragon's thick skin would block part of the spell, and it wouldn't work to its full potential. However, Fleur darted forward, jumping nimbly about the dragon's splayed arms and legs.  
  
"Oh - nearly!" Bagman said as Fleur reached down into the nest of eggs to pluck out the golden egg. However, her arms were just too short, and the nest was just too far down, so she tried to climb up and over the dragon's arm, which was curled protectively around it.  
  
"Careful now!" and sure enough, the dragon snorted in its sleep and a jet of flame shot out. Fleur's skirt caught on fire, and she let out a little girlish squeak of dismay. She quickly performed a spell, and a stream of water poured out of the end of her wand, putting out the fire. She turned her attention back to the egg, but the dragon was now struggling to get past the veil of sleep. She made a grab for the egg, but missed. "Good lord, I thought she'd had it then!" Ludo shouted. The dragon was now nearly awake, and it reared its head, preparing for another jet of flame. Fleur made one last desperate grab, and, miraculously -  
  
"She's got it! She's got the egg!" Ludo bellowed, and the crowd jumped to its feet and cheered. Fleur quickly sprinted up and out of the dragon's enclosure, hugging the egg to her chest protectively, and the dragon's flame that was meant for her head hit the dirt ground instead.  
  
The whistle blew again. "And here comes Mr. Krum!"  
  
Krum slouched into view. He nodded towards the judge's table at Karkaroff, and stepped into the enclosure. He raised his wand immediately after entering and said a spell. A jet of white shot out and hit the dragon in the eye.  
  
"Very daring!" Bagman shouted, and the Chinese Fireball shrieked in agony and began flailing around. Krum ducked around the flailing limbs in search of the golden egg. Unfortunately, the Fireball was dancing right around the nest of eggs, and a heavy leg just barely missed Krum. It came straight down with a dull thud onto the nest, and when it raised its foot again, the crowd could see that half of the eggs had been broken. Everyone gasped. Krum winced, but dove straight down into the nest, apparently trying to squeeze in grabbing the egg before the dragon's leg came pounding down again.  
  
"That's some nerve he's showing!" yelled Ludo Bagman, and the crowd held its breath as Krum disappeared from view.  
  
"Yes - he's got the egg!"  
  
Krum's head popped back up and he wriggled up and out of the nest with the egg clutched in his arms, amid cheers from the crowd.  
  
"He was the fastest," Moody muttered.  
  
"But the dragon trampled half the real eggs," McGonagall reminded him. "The judges surely will take off points for that."  
  
The whistle blew one last time and Harry Potter appeared from the tent. The Horntail was already in the enclosure, waiting. The crowd was in an uproar. This was clearly the most dangerous dragon of the lot, and here it was being put up against the youngest champion?  
  
Harry raised his wand, and the crowd grew silent. He shouted something, but the words were lost to the wind. Then he simply stood there, waiting, and the crowd became impatient and shouted at him. McGonagall caught a glimpse of Draco Malfoy's smirking face a few stands down and grimaced.  
  
Suddenly a hurtling sound came from the direction of the woods. Everyone's head turned, including Harry's, and Ludo Bagman shouted, "It's a Firebolt!"  
  
The crowd's shouts grew louder. Hagrid was yelling himself hoarse. The Firebolt came to a dead stop beside Harry, and he mounted it and kicked off from the ground. Everyone's eyes followed him as he flew higher and higher, until he was a mere speck.  
  
"I'm not sure what he's attempting here," Bagman cried, "but it looks dangerous..."  
  
Harry plummeted headfirst. The crowd inhaled sharply.  
  
"Is he going for the egg?" Moody asked incredulously.  
  
The Horntail let out a jet of fire, and someone screamed, but Harry pulled out just in time. The crowd began shouting.  
  
"Great Scott, he can fly!" Bagman yelled over the din. "Are you watching this, Mr. Krum?"  
  
They watched as Harry soared higher; even the Horntail was following his every movement. He began circling, and the Horntail followed him with its head. It opened its mouth, and at the same time, Harry dove again. The flames missed him, but the dragon managed to hit his shoulder with its tail spikes. The cloth ripped, and the crowd groaned. Harry seemed to be all right, however; he began to fly back and forth. The dragon followed his progress, its fangs bared at him. He flew higher, and the Horntail stretched its neck to its fullest extent, swaying. Harry rose a few feet higher. The dragon roared and shot fire into the air again. He dodged the flames. The Horntail opened its mouth and reared towards Harry, spreading its huge wings and lifting off, allowing Harry to dive towards the nest of eggs now unprotected.  
  
"He's got the egg!" Ludo Bagman yelled. "Will you look at that!"  
  
Harry was soaring out over the stands with the egg safely tucked under his arm, victorious. The crowd was applauding and cheering. Moody was growling, apparently in satisfaction. Hagrid let out a bawl and buried his face in his huge hands. McGonagall let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding and smiled, cheering along with the crowd. She spotted Snape a few feet away. He was scowling up at Harry, but McGonagall could detect a faint expression of relief on his face.  
  
"Come on!" she said, pulling Moody and Hagrid along with her and down to the enclosure towards Harry. Hagrid pushed a path through the crowd easily.  
  
Bagman was still shouting. "Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"  
  
The dragon keepers rushed forward to subdue the Horntail. McGonagall, Hagrid, and Moody were at the entrance to the enclosure, and they waved Harry towards them, all grinning. They watched as he flew back over the stands and neatly landed on the ground in front of them.  
  
"That was excellent, Potter!" McGonagall cried the second he had gotten off the Firebolt. She pointed to his shoulder. "You'll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score...Over there, she's had to mop up Diggory already..."  
  
Hagrid beamed. "Yeh did it, Harry! Yeh did it! An' agains' the Horntail an' all, an' yeh know Charlie said that was the wors' -"  
  
"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry quickly interrupted. McGonagall looked at Hagrid suspiciously, then at Harry.  
  
"Nice and easy does the trick, Potter," Moody growled, and McGonagall forgot about what Hagrid had said.  
  
"Right then, Potter, the first aid tent, please..." And she gave Harry a little push towards Madam Pomfrey, who was worriedly standing at the entrance of a second tent.  
  
"Come on," Moody said after awhile, still watching the place where Harry had disappeared into the tent, "the judges are about to give their marks."  
  
The three professors headed back to their seats in the stands. The crowd was still buzzing excitedly, pondering what score Harry would receive. Ludo Bagman was mopping his forehead, busily talking to Dumbledore, who was sitting beside him at the judge's table.  
  
Finally, the judges seemed to be ready. Harry and Ron were standing on the other edge of the enclosure. Ron was chatting Harry's ear off. McGonagall smiled when she saw this, relieved that Ron had come to his senses about Harry being champion.  
  
Madame Maxine raised her wand. A ribbon of silver shot out and twisted itself into an eight. The crowd applauded. Mr. Crouch shot up a number nine. Dumbledore also put up a nine. The crowd was cheering itself hoarse. Ludo Bagman awarded Harry with a ten. McGonagall, out of the corner of her eye, saw Harry saying something to Ron in disbelief. Karkaroff was the last of the judges. He hesitated for a moment, then displayed his number: four. The crowd was indignant, and showed their disapproval by shouting at Karkaroff, who pretended not to hear. Even McGonagall was yelling. Hagrid looked ready to kill. Moody's magical eye was twitching overtime.  
  
"They've tied," McGonagall said when the noise had subsided a bit. "Potter and Krum."  
  
"Only 'cause tha' Karkaroff was unfair," Hagrid grumbled.  
  
"Don't worry, Harry'll pull ahead during the next task," Moody said, his eyes glimmering. "I'm sure of it." 


	3. Part III: The Second Task

Title: Professor McGonagall - Part III: The Second Task  
Author: Rita Screecher  
Author email: ritascreecher@excite.com  
Category: Humor/Romance  
Keywords: Fourth year, Professor McGonagall  
Spoilers: All four books, especially the fourth book (obviously)  
Rating: PG  
Summary: A retelling of Harry Potter and Co's fourth year, from Professor McGonagall's point of view. Of course, I took a few "creative liberties"…:)  
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
A/N: *point* Look, my nose hair grows in ringlets! *cough* I also take no responsibility whatsoever for my poor representation of a French accent anywhere in this fic.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
This is the third part of a planned five part series, detailing the events of the Triwizard Tournament during Harry Potter's fourth year at Hogwarts, from Professor McGonagall's point of view.  
  
Part III: The Second Task  
  
"Gabrielle Delacour," McGonagall read aloud. "Her sister, I presume?"  
  
Dumbledore gave a brief nod in reply. "Would you like to do the next, Minerva?"  
  
"I'd be honored," and she took the proffered piece of parchment and dropped it into the Goblet of Ice. The paper disappeared in a burst of light, the words "Viktor Krum" flashing brilliantly before fading out of sight. A few seconds later, the same slip of parchment was tossed back out of the Goblet, and McGonagall caught it.  
  
"Hermione Granger." McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Dumbledore. The headmaster smiled a half smile and dropped in the third parchment. A few moments passed, and the paper came back out of the Goblet. McGonagall dusted shards of ice off of the paper before reading, "Cho Chang."  
  
The final parchment bore Harry Potter's name. Dumbledore slipped it in, and the two watched silently as his name flashed once, then faded. Slowly, another name appeared on the parchment, and McGonagall reached out and grasped it as it shot back out of the Goblet.  
  
"Ronald Weasley," she read.  
  
"Well, there we go," Dumbledore said briskly, collecting up all the scraps of parchment and placing them in a box which he carefully locked and put away on a shelf. "Now, what do you say we go to dinner now?"  
  
"I say that sounds like a fine idea," McGonagall replied. "I'm starving."  
  
"After you," Dumbledore smiled, holding the door open for McGonagall. They headed out of his office and stepped onto the spiral staircase.  
  
"Are you excited about this next task, McGonagall?" he asked as the staircase moved down smoothly.   
  
"Yes," she said, but hesitantly. "I suppose I'm just worried. I mean, there's grindylows down there, and the Giant Squid...suppose they get hurt or knocked out while underwater, and drown?"  
  
"They won't drown," Dumbledore reassured her. "No one will, neither the champions nor the hostages. I've personally seen to that."  
  
"How?"  
  
"My dear, you worry too much. But just to reassure you, I've stationed mermaids throughout the lake to patrol. If, by chance, a champion gets knocked out underwater, they'll rescue them and bring them to the surface. Otherwise, they'll stay out of sight. I've told them to help only if the champion is visibly struggling to breathe."  
  
The staircase stopped moving, and Dumbledore and McGonagall stepped off and into the hall.  
  
"I'm happy to hear that," McGonagall said finally. She pressed a hand to her forehead.  
  
"Are you all right?"  
  
"I think so," she replied, wincing. "I've got this enormous headache, however. Would you excuse me? I'm going to go to the staff room and lie down for a while, maybe drink some hot chocolate the house-elves leave out. I'll be down to dinner in a minute."  
  
"Of course," Dumbledore replied, and continued on towards the Great Hall, where delicious smells of dinner were already wafting down from. McGonagall, on the other hand, hurried off towards the staff room. When she arrived, she found that someone had already beaten her to the drinks.  
  
"Professor Moody!" she said in surprise. He turned quickly, sloshing the hot chocolate out of his mug and onto the ground.  
  
"My goodness, I'm so sorry," McGonagall stammered, and quickly drew out her wand to clean up the mess. However, a little house-elf had already jumped out of nowhere and was currently on his hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.  
  
"Are you all right, sir? Miss?" the house-elf squeaked. "You didn't get burned, did you? Dobby is so sorry."  
  
"I'm fine," McGonagall and Moody replied automatically. "Thank you," McGonagall added.  
  
Dobby finished cleaning up and bowed deeply. He scurried off to tend to a pile of dirty robes in the adjacent closet. Meanwhile, McGonagall walked over to the long table against the wall and picked up a mug of her own. She sipped deeply.  
  
"Has the Goblet of Ice chosen yet?" Moody said abruptly.  
  
"Yes," McGonagall answered, savoring a star-shaped marshmallow. She poked around her cup for more.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Fleur Delacour's hostage is her sister Gabrielle, Viktor Krum's is Hermione Granger, Cedric Diggory's is Cho Chang, and Harry Potter's hostage is Ronald Weasley. I wish I had more marshmallows in my cup," McGonagall said petulantly. The house-elf, who had apparently overheard, hurried over with a plateful of star-shaped marshmallows. McGonagall smiled and took a handful. The house-elf bowed and scampered back to the closet.  
  
"So," Moody finally said, clearing his throat. "What sort of methods do you think the champions will use to breathe underwater?"  
  
"I'm not sure," McGonagall said slowly. "I think some might try to actually Transfigure themselves - that, I think, is the worst idea; so many things could go wrong - but in my opinion, the Bubble Head Charm would be the best way."  
  
"What about gillyweed?" Moody said.  
  
"I hadn't even thought about that!" McGonagall laughed. "That's an even better idea. If any of the champions think to use gillyweed, I'd bet they'd be the first to recover their hostage. Not only does it allow one to breathe underwater, but it helps one to swim as well." She sipped some more of her hot chocolate and continued, "I don't think any will, however; it's not a very common plant. First of all, I doubt any of them have heard of it, and second, if they do decide to use it, where will they get it?"  
  
"Snape has some in his office, doesn't he?"  
  
"Yes, but that's in his private store," McGonagall said distractedly. "No; I don't think any of the champions will use gillyweed. Pity. It's the best method out of all of them."  
  
"Indeed," Moody growled, smiling. McGonagall looked at him, confused. Though his normal eye was staring straight at her, his glass eye was looking somewhere else entirely. McGonagall turned to see what he was looking at. It was only the house-elf, however, still busy collecting up the dirty robes in the closet.  
  
***  
  
"Has anyone seen Granger or Weasley?" McGonagall finally shouted. It was the night before the second task, and the hostages had to be brought to her office and put under a bewitched sleep. However, though Gabrielle and Cho were already waiting in her office, she had been searching for Ron and Hermione for an hour by now, apparently nowhere to be found. Impatient, she had finally entered the Gryffindor common room and shouted her predicament, hoping that someone, anyone, knew where they were.  
  
The common room fell silent and everyone looked around.  
  
"Now that you mention it, I haven't seen them," Parvati said slowly. "Not since dinner, that is." She looked at Lavender with raised eyebrows, and the two girls began to titter.  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake," McGonagall said, irritated. "Stop that inane giggling."  
  
"We'll help you look," George Weasley called from a corner of the room. Fred, who was sitting beside him, looked up from a letter he was composing.  
  
"Oh yeah, we'll definitely help," he said, in complete sincerity. "They're probably in some unused room...erm...studying. We'll scout out all the linen closets for you. You're not to worry, ma'am."  
  
The twins grinned at one another and hurried out of the common room.  
  
"Linen closets?" McGonagall wondered aloud as she followed them out of the portrait door. "What on earth...send them to my office if you find them!" she shouted to their retreating backs. The two waved back and disappeared around a corner. McGonagall returned to her office, a bit anxious.  
  
"Ah, Professor!" Dumbledore greeted her, standing up as she entered the room. His face fell a bit. "I take it that you haven't found Ms. Granger or Mr. Weasley?"  
  
"No, Albus," McGonagall replied wearily. "Fred and George Weasley volunteered to go and find them...something about linen closets?"  
  
Dumbledore gave a faint smile. "Ah, Fred and George Weasley...ever the pranksters. Well, I suppose they'll find them soon enough. Now," he said, clapping his hands together. He turned to Gabrielle and Cho, who were sitting in chairs in front of McGonagall's desk, both looking a bit uneasy. "I imagine that the two of you are a bit uncomfortable, and maybe curious on why exactly we called you here?"  
  
The two girls nodded.  
  
"We're not in trouble, are we, Professor Dumbledore?" Cho spoke up timidly. "If this has anything to do with Cedric and I last week during Charms-"  
  
"No, Ms. Chang," Dumbledore interrupted, "but it is about Cedric Diggory. And Fleur Delacour," he added with a nod in Gabrielle's direction.  
  
"Oh, are zey all right?" Gabrielle gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. "Did something happen to zem?" She looked to be on the verge of tears.  
  
"They're perfectly fine, Ms. Delacour," Dumbledore reassured her. "What I'm trying to say is that you two, as well as - ah, here they are," and everyone turned to look at Hermione and Ron, who had just burst into the office, both panting heavily as though they had just ran a marathon.  
  
"Sit down," McGonagall said, conjuring up two more chairs. ""You're just in time."  
  
They sat. And looked at Dumbledore apprehensively.  
  
"You're not in trouble," McGonagall added.  
  
The two looked visibly relieved.  
  
"Then why are we here, Professor?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I am about to explain, if I can be given the chance," Dumbledore said, raising his voice slightly. "Now that you all are here, I can begin.  
  
"The second task involves the champions, the Lake, and you four," he began. At these words, realization began to dawn on Hermione's face, and then Ron's. Cho and Gabrielle, on the other hand, looked bewildered.  
  
"We will be putting all four of you under an enchanted sleep," Dumbledore continued. "Then we will transport you down to the bottom of the Lake. There, the merpeople will protect you from any outside harm. The second task, if you haven't guessed yet, is for the champions to rescue you, the person the champion will most sorely miss."  
  
Gabrielle nodded. "Of course, my sister will miss me ze most. No surprise zere."  
  
"Cedric Diggory," Cho breathed, smiling.  
  
However, it wasn't so clear for Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Harry!" both said. Then they frowned at each other. "You?"  
  
"No, no, Hermione, you've got it all wrong," Ron said impatiently. "It's got to be me, because -"  
  
"Says who?" Hermione retorted. "He likes me better. He barely tolerates you!"  
  
"Then you're saying that I'm what Viktor Krum will most sorely miss?" Ron shot back.  
  
Hermione looked stunned, but quickly recovered. "Then - well, of course, Viktor Krum will most sorely miss me, and Harry as well, but since I was already chosen, you were second in line, so he's got to rescue you. It all makes sense."  
  
Ron glowered. "You just can't bear to have the thought that Harry likes me better than you."  
  
"You wish!" Hermione shouted.  
  
"Silence!" McGonagall yelled. They quieted immediately, but shot nasty looks at one another in consolation.  
  
"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "Now the catch is, the champions must rescue you in under an hour. Of course," he added hastily, "the spell on all of you will last for as long as needed - until your head breaks the surface of the lake, that is. However, if your champion does not reach you, the merpeople will bring you up. Any questions?"  
  
"Any last words?" Ron muttered. Hermione glared at him, but kept silent.  
  
"All right, then. See you tomorrow," and Dumbledore cast the spell upon the four of them. They instantly fell into a deep slumber. Ron's head lolled to the side and onto Cho's shoulder, and Gabrielle curled up into a little ball. McGonagall poked them repeatedly to make sure they were asleep and wouldn't wake.  
  
"Well, let's head on down to the Lake," she said, and conjured the four, still on their chairs, up and out the door. Dumbledore followed.  
  
It was bitingly cold outside, and McGonagall shuddered as the first blast of wind hit her face and whipped around her robes, making them fly out behind her.  
  
"I don't fancy going into the Lake in this sort of weather," she said to Dumbledore, who was standing beside her and gazing off into the clear night. He grasped her arm firmly and led her down the stone steps.  
  
"The students will be fine," he reassured her. "I put an extra warming spell on them. They won't even get a runny nose."  
  
"You think of everything, don't you," McGonagall said, in half exasperation and half admiration.  
  
"Not everything," Dumbledore said, and McGonagall shivered a bit, not knowing if it was at the icy wind or at his grave tone.  
  
"Here we are," he said, and knelt at the edge of the Lake. Its surface was stormy, and kept throwing up sprays of water onto the bank. Dumbledore checked his pocket watch. "The merpeople should be here any moment now."  
  
They waited, standing there in their heavy cloaks, McGonagall occasionally stamping her feet or blowing on her hands to keep warm. She was just about to suggest going back in for a cup of hot chocolate when the surface of the Lake quivered in a rapid movement.  
  
"Ah, here they are," Dumbledore said delightedly, and sure enough, a moment later five heads popped out of the water. They had gray skin and long green hair that was currently tangled and wild. Their eyes were yellow, and when the first opened her mouth to speak to Dumbledore, McGonagall saw that her teeth were yellow as well.  
  
Dumbledore talked to the mermaid for a while before turning to McGonagall and saying, "All right, they're ready to take the hostages."  
  
"Are you sure this is safe?" McGonagall whispered, staring at the merpeople in fascination and fear. "They look rather savage."  
  
Dumbledore laughed at McGonagall's timidness. "I'm sure," he smiled, and flicked his wand at the four students. They rose out of their chairs, their heads bobbing strangely and their limbs flopping uselessly. Dumbledore flicked his wand again, and they floated up and over the Lake.  
  
"Ready?" Dumbledore said in Mermish, and the merpeople nodded, apparently prepared to catch them. With another flick of his wand, the hostages dropped, and McGonagall gave a little scream. However, the merpeople caught all of them neatly, and the first waved goodbye to Dumbledore and McGonagall as they turned and dove back into the water, the four students cradled in their arms.  
  
McGonagall gave a great sigh. "I suppose we'd better head back and catch a few hours of sleep," she said. Dumbledore didn't reply. He was still watching the spot on the Lake where the merpeople disappeared.  
  
"I suppose you're right," Dumbledore finally said, shaking from his reverie and looking up at her. He stood, dusting off his hands, and together they walked back up the path towards the castle.  
  
***  
  
"Where is Potter?" McGonagall cried, pacing up and down the bank next to the judge's table. "How could he miss the second task? What is he doing?"  
  
"Minerva, dear, calm down," Dumbledore said mildly. "I'm sure he's just getting ready. He'll be here."  
  
"Well, I say we start without the boy," Karkaroff said nastily. "If he can't show us respect by coming to the task on time, he doesn't deserve to be champion. Not that he deserved to be champion in the first place," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"Igor," Dumbledore said warningly, and Karkaroff subsided.  
  
"There he is!" someone in the stands shouted, pointing up towards the castle. Everyone turned to look, and sure enough, there was Harry, running flat out across the lawn, his robes trailing behind him. Karkaroff looked ready to kill. Ludo Bagman looked immensely relieved. Fleur sniffed in disapproval.  
  
"I'm...here..." Harry panted as he reached the judges' table. He skidded to a halt, accidentally splattering Fleur's robes with mud. Fleur gave a little cry of dismay.  
  
"We're going into the Lake in a few minutes, Fleur," Cedric said impatiently, "I doubt that bit of mud is a devastating loss to your robes compared to what the Lake and the creatures in it will do to them."  
  
Fleur glared at him and whipped out her wand anyway, cleaning up the mess on her robes.  
  
"Where have you been?" Percy Weasley said from his seat on the judge's table. "The task's about to start!"  
  
"Now, now, Percy!" Ludo Bagman reproached him with a grin on his face. "Let him catch his breath!" He stood and walked around the table to where the champions were grouped. He grasped each by the shoulder and maneuvered them to the edge of the Lake, spacing them 10 feet apart, Fleur first, then Cedric, Krum, and Harry at the very end. Then he returned to the judges' table and pointed his wand at his throat.  
  
"Sonorus!" His voice suddenly boomed out across the water to where the stands were on the other side of the Lake. "Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One...two...three!"  
  
The shrill whistle pierced through the air, and the stands shook with cheers and applause. The champions all pulled off their shoes and socks, as though it was some odd relay race, and waded into the water. Cedric and Fleur were the first to act, and both cast Bubble Head Charms on themselves. Enormous globes materialized around their heads, which stretched their feature to almost unrecognition. They dove into the water and disappeared; not even bubbles appeared on the surface of the water to mark where they had vanished. Krum had Transfigured himself into a shark, but did a poor job: only his head was a shark; the rest of his body had stayed the same. However, he decided that the head was good enough, and plunged into the water shortly after Cedric and Fleur.  
  
Now only Harry was left standing on the very edge of the Lake. Once or twice he slipped in the water and nearly fell, amid laughs and jeers from the Slytherins in the stands. They saw him stuff something into his mouth and swallow. He was waist-deep in the water, and still nothing was happening. Everyone watched, and expectancy gave way to impatience. There was laughter first, then catcalls and jeering, and then suddenly gasps from those who had Omnioculars.  
  
"He's got gills!" one shouted, peering through their pair, and everyone began grabbing for them. There was a mild tussle, and during that space of 15 seconds or so when all were busy trying to get the Omnioculars, Harry dove into the water, making a loud splash. Everyone froze, then promptly began yelling themselves hoarse at each other.  
  
Ludo Bagman was looking very delighted. "Well, now that all the champions have left, I might as well announce what exactly we took from them. It is what each will most sorely miss - or in this case, who." The stands fell silent, expectant. "Fleur Delacour will most sorely miss her sister, Gabrielle Delacour." A group of boys who were carrying "We loff you, Fleur" signs began wailing in dismay. "Cedric Diggory's hostage is Cho Chang. Harry Potter's hostage is Ronald Weasley. And Viktor Krum's hostage is Hermione Granger.  
  
"Now, as you all have just seen, Fleur Delacour and Cedric Diggory both performed Bubble Head Charms. Viktor Krum did a partial Transfiguration - you all saw his shark head, I presume? I, for one, am taking a few points off for the rather shoddy Transfiguration work." He ducked as Karkaroff flung a textbook at him in fury. "Young Harry Potter, on the other hand, used gillyweed. To those of you out there who are unknowledgeable on magical plants, gillyweed, when eaten, allows one to breathe underwater by giving them gills and fins. It basically turns one into a human fish, if you will. Now all we've got to do is wait for the champions to return, hopefully with their respective hostages. Hope you all dressed warmly, we're going to be here for a while."  
  
***  
  
50 minutes later...  
  
"Someone's coming!" Ludo Bagman shouted. The drowsy stands stirred awake and everyone craned their necks to watch the Lake intently, vainly trying to peer through the water in order to discover whom it was, who was the first champion to return. The surface of the water rippled and suddenly broke, and there were audible gasps from the stands. All instantly recoiled at the sight of...  
  
"Fleur Delacour!" Bagman cried. "She's unconscious...the merpeople have brought her up!"  
  
The boys burst into heavy sobs for the second time that day.  
  
"Let's find out what happened, shall we, Albus?"  
  
But Dumbledore needed no prompting. He had already stood from his seat at the judges' table and was striding quickly towards the group of merpeople. One merman gently laid Fleur on the bank of the Lake and another began talking rapidly to Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey, in the meantime, rushed up and carried Fleur away to a nearby tent. Madame Maxine hurried after her.  
  
After a few minutes of conversing, the merpeople left, waving their tails at the stands. Dumbledore returned to the judges' table and began talking to the rest in a low voice.  
  
"The merpeople have informed us that Fleur Delacour was attacked by grindylows," Ludo finally said. The boys burst into fresh tears. "She did not reach her hostage."  
  
This announcement brought a heavy silence upon the stands. The only sound was Fleur's Bulgarian fans crying in abject misery.  
  
***  
  
10 minutes later...  
  
"At this time, it has been exactly one hour since the champions first began the task," Ludo Bagman's voice rang out. "None have returned successfully. This means no one will receive the full fifty points, and the judges will now base their marks on how much longer each champion takes to rescue their hostages."  
  
But no one was paying attention to Ludo anymore. The surface of the Lake was trembling once again, and everyone watched in apprehension. Was this champion returning victorious or beaten up and knocked out, carried back by merpeople?  
  
"I present you Cedric Diggory, folks!" Ludo cried, as Cedric's Bubble Head broke the surface. "And yes, he returns with his hostage, Cho Chang!"  
  
Cho was awake and clinging to Cedric for dear life. He seemed to have trouble swimming back to the bank, now with Cho conscious and attached to him like a leech. However, he managed to reach the edge of the Lake and gently set Cho down on her feet. The stands erupted into cheers at the sight of Cho pulling Cedric's head down and giving him a long kiss. Cedric went scarlet, but kissed her back. Madam Pomfrey hurried over and actually had to pry the two apart to give them each a Pepper-Up Potion and a blanket.  
  
"Well!" Bagman said when the applause finally subsided. "Well!" Apparently he, as well as everyone else on the judges' table, was speechless. Where had they learned to kiss like that?  
  
Shortly thereafter, Viktor Krum arrived, also triumphant. Hermione, on the other hand, didn't reward her rescuer with a kiss, to apparent disappointment from both Krum and the audience. However, Hermione did give him a very chaste hug before accepting a Pepper-Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey.  
  
"Viktor Krum also returns successfully with Ms. Hermione Granger," Bagman announced, "ten minutes outside the time limit. Now we just have to wait for Harry Potter to return...it won't be long now, I reckon..."  
  
But much to Bagman's dismay, five minutes passed with no sign of Harry. Then ten minutes. Then fifteen. The crowd was beginning to murmur impatiently when suddenly, Harry's dark head burst out of the lake, visibly gasping for breath. But with him were not one, but two hostages!  
  
"Harry Potter has returned with both Ronald Weasley and Gabrielle Delacour!" Bagman shouted, as flabbergasted as anyone else. The stands were on their feet, shouting and screaming. Fleur Delacour, at this announcement, burst out of the tent and ran to the bank, apparently prepared to fling herself into the water to see her sister. However, Madame Maxine was restraining Fleur with her massive arms, though with some difficulty.  
  
Meanwhile, twenty merpeople emerged out of the water beside Harry, and they beamed as they sang in their screechy voices and escorted the three back to the bank. Dumbledore, Ludo Bagman, and Percy all stood up. Dumbledore and Bagman walked to the edge of the Lake, beaming at Harry, but Percy actually ran from his seat at the judges' table and into the water. The second Percy got close enough to Ron, he grabbed him and dragged him back to the bank, amid loud protests from poor Ron. Dumbledore and Bagman pulled Harry upright and Fleur, in one last tug, broke free of Madam Maxine and hugged her sister tight.  
  
"It was ze grindylows...zey attacked me...oh Gabrielle, I thought...I thought..." And Fleur burst into tears. Gabrielle began to cry as well, and the boys in the stands sighed at the adorable sight.  
  
Madam Pomfrey swooped down on Harry and wrapped him tightly up in a blanket, pulling him over to the other champions and hostages, and forcing a Pepper-Up Potion down his throat, making steam pour out of his ears. Hermione was busy talking to Harry, and Krum looked surlier than ever at this sight. Madam Pomfrey then rescued Ron from Percy, led him over to Harry and the others, gave him a blanket and a liberal dose of Pepper-Up Potion, and then went to fetch Fleur and her sister. Fleur was in bad shape; she had cuts on her face and arms and her normally impeccable robes were torn; yet she didn't care, nor did she allow Madam Pomfrey to tend to them.  
  
Dumbledore was crouched at the edge of the Lake, talking to the chief merperson in rapid Mermish. Finally he stood, turned to the other judges, and said quietly, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."  
  
The judges went into a huddle. The crowds were buzzing excitedly, and the group of boys began furiously waving their fists at the sight of Fleur kissing Harry and Ron.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ludo's voice boomed out suddenly, "we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...  
  
"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points.  
  
"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour. We therefore award him forty-seven points."  
  
The Hufflepuffs in the crowd were cheering themselves hoarse.  
  
"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points.  
  
"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However..." Here Ludo Bagman paused, and the stands fell silent, expectant. "The Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that they delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own. Most of the judges," Bagman paused and turned to give Karkaroff a nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However...Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."  
  
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause. Even Fleur was clapping, though Krum didn't look at all pleased. He was too busy trying to get Hermione to pay attention to him.  
  
"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June. The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."  
  
"What'd I tell you, eh?" Moody said over the cheers. "Didn't I say Potter would pull ahead this task?"  
  
"Well, Moody, he didn't exactly pull ahead," McGonagall replied. "He's tied with Diggory, however."  
  
"Yes, I know," Moody growled. "Well done, Potter." 


End file.
